Restoration
by Lydian Stone
Summary: Set after The Spider & the Fly  Tony deals with tension, a difficult past and his distracted boss.  Tony/Ziva  friendship  but mainly Gibbs/Tony  father/son .  Includes why Gibbs hates apologies.
1. Not Now, Dad

**A/N I was a bit disappointed at how things just seemed back to normal in many respects during "The Spider and the Fly" so this is my take on it. I have no idea what the storyline with Senior will be, but I thought I'd explore Tony's angst about it. The story is mostly Tony's POV but there are some chapters from Gibbs POV as well. **

**This entire fic is nearly done, just needs polishing so I do intend to post a chapter a day if possible. **

**Obviously I do not own anything except my grammatical errors. **

**Restoration**

**Chapter 1**

**Not now, Dad**

Tony's POV

I slammed my mobile shut for the third time that day. The last thing that I wanted to deal with today was my opportunistic father's 'situation.' Four months of palpable tension in the bullpen and he picked now to try to maneuver himself back in my life . . . or more accurately in my life for the first time. I couldn't even clear my head enough to think through the implications. What I did know is that I wasn't up for this.

It had been four long months of everyone on eggshells. Gibbs had been guiltily avoiding Abby until she slowly climbed out of a certifiable depression of his making. His concern for his dad's safety had morphed into a terminal case of irritability, one for which no amount of my upbeat smokescreens could diffuse, especially since I hadn't been able to count on Abby to be my wingman to help me keep him from imploding. Ziva and McGee had been ushered all over the continent on a wild goose chase so it had been left to me to pull the pieces together.

I've always hated tension.

One up side to the summer had been the occasional beer with Jack. Sometimes with both him and Gibbs, but with Paloma Reynosa at large and Mike Franks MIA, any time Gibbs sat down, the idleness weighed on him and he was compelled to keep moving.

This should have been down time. The conclusion of an epic case should always be rewarded. After all, the bad guys had been killed or imprisoned, the protagonist had been justified by his pure motives, the rest of us survived and returned in tact and Shea butter still lingered in the air. Considering this, paperwork did not seem like a punishment but a reprieve.

"You have something against your phone, DiNozzo?" A much more relaxed Gibbs swept into the bullpen.

"No Boss, the phone is fine." I couldn't muster the happy go lucky look to sell that I was also fine.

Gibbs paused in front of my desk and took a long sip of coffee. It was as though he was able to see and process his surroundings again for the first time since this whole mess began. I looked straight back at him, I was going for content but I'm guessing the closest I could pull off was something just short of agitated. Regardless, he got the message and continued on to his desk.

Last time I had daddy issues I messed up royally and Gibbs not only stood by me, but he was proactively supportive. It was not that I no longer thought of Gibbs in the same way. Unlike Abbyland, the world I lived in was seldom black and white. I always knew Gibbs was fallible, just maybe less fallible than the rest of us. I understood why he did what he did and I didn't judge him for it. No legal system on earth would have administered justice on his behalf. I would always respect the guy and I knew I couldn't function sanely without him, but he'd working through his own personal minefield and he had just settled his father back at Stillwater. On the other hand, he had remained on thin ice with his 'daughter,' Abby, who had been struggling through her own daddy issues with him, so the last thing the boss needed was my whining.

What Gibbs did need was a break from drama and tension, even more than I did. As I got back to my report, I glanced over to his desk and noticed him really studying my teammates. I could imagine the narrative that was was running through his mind, but with Oscar worthy flair.

As he looked at Ziva he might have been thinking about how he let her down. He knew how monumental her naturalization ceremony was and yet because he screwed up not only did he miss her ceremony, but I had to as well. I knew Ziva had to have been disappointed on the day, but she was practical enough not to hold a grudge when duty trumped personal promises. When I stopped by to apologize when I returned from Mexico, she would have none of it. She could see that missing it had upset me as much as my absence had disappointed her. She did relish the red white and blue gourmet cupcake that I had brought her and even split it with me, so I knew that there were no hard feelings. Why Gibbs missed it was a little more ambiguous, and only he really knew the details - and if he should feel guilty or justified in it. Based on how he was looking at her, I would have to guess guilty. Ziva's never given him one minute of grief over that or anything else this summer. She has cheerfully followed orders while basking in the freedom of knowing that she will never be deported.

My next glance caught him looking at Tim. Maybe he was considering how independently McGee had been working this summer. Gibbs sent him off to Canada without a moment's hesitation confirming that Probie would be able to handle anything that came his way. After Abby regaled us with details of how he offered himself to drug dealers to save the rest of the group, it gave us a higher level of respect for how far Probie had come. McGee had spent a lot of time with Abby this summer since she had channeled all of her affection his direction while starving Gibbs of it. But, since her relationship with Gibbs had returned to something close to what used to be normal, the world was nearly back in balance with Abby allowing Gibbs to kiss her cheek and Tim desiring her to kiss his. Gibbs actually looked at McGee like a parent looking at his kid, wondering when it was that the baby of the family grew up and how it was that he had missed it.

I didn't want to catch him looking in my direction, nor did I imagine what his thoughts on me might have been. Who knows what was really going through his mind anyway. Maybe it was not that sentimental, but thinking about what Gibbs might be thinking was distracting me from thinking about my own screwed up issues. Sigh.

Gibbs' phone rang, he listened then stood up, "Paperwork can wait, grab your gear."

I had another tension headache and while I'd been mainlining asprin and caffeine all summer, the pain had persisted. I didn't even mind Ziva driving, although my head would have preferred it to be Tim, or even Gibbs. I called shotgun and Gibbs oddly conceded it. Ziva glanced at me from time to time and I tried not to make my stress apparent with a few light comments and smiles. The way she had been squinting at me, I knew I was failing but she didn't call me on it. We got out of the car, grabbed our gear and started to process.

While gathering witness statements we learned that there had been several domestic disturbances with an ex-husband, who was also enlisted and lived on base, so Ziva and I got back in the car to question him. During the drive Ziva, in all her gentleness, bluntly said, "Okay, out with it! You are far too quiet."

I looked out the window. "I'm fine. Nothing important in the grand scheme of things and besides, we're nearly there."

She nodded her understanding at the time limitation and let it slide but my mind was still full of it.

When we got out of the car, it all happened too fast. All the 'unimportant issues in the grand scheme of things' clouded my mind and my reaction was delayed when the ex-husband barreled out of the house in my direction. I did not move quickly enough to intercept, nor did I pull my gun or even try to tackle him as he ran right by my side of the car. It was like watching the Matrix ninja moves in slow motion and being helpless to stop them. I felt the weight of the elbow strike on my the head while my legs were swept from under me. To make matters worse, my thick skull dislodged the rear view mirror on the way down then freefell with it until both hit the concrete. The sound of shattered glass was the last thing I remembered before I followed the white rabbit into oblivion.

I could always hear when I came around before I could open my eyes or talk. I didn't really feel like looking awake since I remembered enough of the event to know that I had screwed up and why. I didn't feel like facing tension this morning and now in my self-absorbed haze I had invited more. Then I remembered Ziva had been with me. I had no idea if she apprehended the suspect, if she was injured as well, or just indignant that I zoned out on duty. The thought that she may be in trouble spurred my eyes open. I was disoriented as usual. I probably should have been concerned that this is such a typical occurrence that I know what is 'usual' for me in a concussed state. I was in a hospital, no surprise. I just hoped they got all the standard tests done while I was out of it so that I could get out of there quicker.

I was lying on my stomach and the back of my head felt oddly numb when I sensed Gibbs staring at me even before I spoke.

"Ziva?"

"She's fine." Hmmm, I couldn't read the tone in his voice. Resignation maybe? "You have a concussion and glass was embedded in the back of your head."

I immediately felt the area and was stymied by a bandage. Oh no. Not the hair. I knew I deserved to suffer for my actions, but the perfect DiNozzo hair was apparently collateral damage. I sighed.

"It'll grow back." I didn't expect Gibbs to understand.

He had to know how badly I had screwed up but he didn't seem mad, or even irritated with me. After a summer of him being on edge I was forgetting how to handle a docile Gibbs. I knew I had to find out how badly I failed so I bit the bullet, "Did the suspect get away?"

"Yeah. Ziver pursued him but he had a head start. She and McGee are working on tracking him now."

I closed my eyes and turned away. I knew she would have paused to make sure I was okay and that lag prevented her from apprehending him. "I messed up, Boss."

"Yeah, ya did." There was a long pause. "Tony, why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't think you'd be interested that I switched hair stylists, but I could give you her number if your barber ever retires." I could feel his silent stare. Seriously I didn't want to get into this, but I needed to own up to my mistakes. I owed him at least that much.

"How'd you know?"

"Your cell phone's been going off for a while and his number keeps coming up. Tony, if you ever want to talk . . ."

"I know, Boss, your basement is always open but right now I have a big enough headache without getting emotionally spent by one of your famous heart-to-hearts, so if it's all the same to you, I'll take a rain check."

I thought I'd get a smirk, but when I turned to look at him he was stoic. After a pause he informed me, "I'm going to head into the office. Ziva will be here before long to drive you home. Do me a favor and watch the attitude with her. She's had a rough day."

"Yeah, okay."

"You're to start your pain meds and stay on them for at least 3 days so you're benched until then."

"I'll see how I feel."

"You'll FEEL like staying home, DiNozzo, no discussion." This point was driven home by the all-authoritarian 'Gibbs' stare' that demanded unquestioned obedience.

"Fine."

Gibbs walked out of the room and I was bugged by how I treated him. Part of me wished I could have just passed out until everything blew over – the cartel, my dad, this bungled case. After that thought, I drifted off to sleep and eventually woke up to humming.

"Ziva?" My voice sounded weak.

"You are awake. How are you feeling?"

"Just peachy." I raised my head enough to glance in her direction. She was looking out the window on the other side of the room. She wasn't injured, but her brow was rumply.

"Then I suppose you are ready to go home, yes?"

"Please tell me I can get out of here."

"I have your discharge papers, but by now all of us have your concussion care instructions memorized, so there is little need for them." She came over to give me a hand, but I refused it. She went back to keeping her distance and my pride caused me to silently wince through the pain. She had her arms crossed and she watched me with slight amusement as I started walking then swaying as the world became swirly. She waited until I had to ask for her help – there was no doubt that she knew how to torture a guy.

"Okay, you win, a little help, please." She approached me, gently draped my arm around her shoulders while wrapping hers around my waist and replied, "You _definitely_ need help, Tony."


	2. Senior Moments

**Chapter 2**

**Senior Moments**

Once back at my apartment I was exhausted and felt like my head was going to explode. The journey was much more of an effort than I had anticipated. Ziva didn't talk and I didn't mind. All I wanted to do was sleep and she was wise enough to know that I needed rest more than we needed to clear the air. She walked me to my room, helped me to sit on my bed and took off my shoes as I gently laid down. My bed felt so comfortable after the stiff hospital gurney. She went to the kitchen and returned with water and some pills. I really didn't want to take the pills because I didn't trust myself not to run at the mouth and make a bad situation worse so I hesitated.

"Tony, this is the maximum dose so it should put you to sleep right away and by the time you wake up you will not be lopey enough to confess your undying love for McGee, or your passion for Barry Manilow ballads, or any other deep seeded secrets that you have yet to share" This earned her my first genuine smile of the day.

"There are not enough pain killers in the world to make me _loopy_ enough for those lies to escape these lips! However, I'm not sure that my devotion to Tom Jones would stay under wraps so you have to promise not to divulge anything that I may admit while under the influence." I raise my eyebrows meaningfully.

"Fair enough. Take your pills and go to sleep." I relented. She pulled some files out of her bag then sat on the other side of my bed and spread them out, obviously intent on working while watching me sleep. Two very exciting prospects, I was sure. As I was drifting off to sleep I didn't know if I was imagining fingers gently fluffing the unbandaged section of my hair or if I looked pathetic enough for Ziva to feel compelled to comfort me on some level. Either way, I didn't really mind.

Next time I woke it was dark, Ziva was sleeping amidst the files, my pain had dulled and I felt lucid, or at least not as fuzzy. I trusted myself enough to speak and I hoped I was not misjudging my situation. I really didn't want to ramble while drugged and tired in case I started confessing my undying love . . . and I was certain I would not have been be ranting about McGee. I lifted my head and Ziva immediately started and sat up, training her eyes on me.

"Tony, are you alright?"

"Aside from the headache and the shaved spot in my otherwise perfect hair . . . yeah, I'm fine."

Ziva left the room and came back with water and more pills. I normally didn't enjoy oblivion this much but I felt the need to escape so I eyed the pills with anticipation. She handed me the water but placed the pills on the bedside table next to her. She organized the files and put them away while I tried to decipher her actions. She sat back on the bed, crossed her legs and a straightened her back, looking straight at me, with anything but a light expression on her face.

"You are not fine. You were not fine this morning before your head injury. Gibbs is even worried about you and based on your behavior today I think he may have cause."

"Gibbs isn't himself – he's had a long summer and I'm sure he's reading too much into things. You don't need to worry, Ziva." I sounded defensive even to myself.

She replied firmly, "You are distracted and it is affecting your ability to do your job. I would say that constitutes as a reason for concern."

"Okay, I admit I've been . . . off, but I can handle it. What do you want anyway, an apology? Am I not looking weak enough here for you?"

Ziva wrinkled her brow and replied with a sigh, "No, Tony. An apology is not necessary, but I would feel better if you told me what is going through that concussed head of yours. Otherwise I will no longer trust that you have my back. You need to work this out. If you do not want to talk to me, fine, I'm sure Abby, Gibbs, McGee or Ducky would be happy to be here in my place."

She looked smug but hurt. Why was I constantly hurting people when all I ever wanted was for everyone to get along? I exhaled deeply and fingered my hair around the bandage.

"My dad's been calling." She nodded slowly waiting for me to continue.

"He's been calling A LOT."

"That explains the distraction. At least this time you were not doing yoga during the pursuit." I flinched and she realized I couldn't joke about last time dad stirred up the dust in my life. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Her smirk disappeared, "Sorry, I know you have a strained relationship with him. What has changed that has you more on edge about him than normal? Is he getting married again?"

"No, nothing as typical as that. Honestly I've been trying to figure out why I'm letting him get to me. I mean he's been reduced to a harmless conman. It's not like he has anything to hold over me, or that he's insulting me in any way, it's just creeping me out that he's so adamant about talking to me."

"Fathers tend to carry more weight in their children's lives than they should, even as adults. You are not a little boy anymore, but it can be hard to let go of hurt feelings."

"Yeah, look who's talking – the queen of daddy issues." She was clearly uncomfortable. Bad move, Anthony. I winced at my poor judgement.

"Tony, I admit my situation is far from ideal, but unlike yours, it has been aired publicly, so tonight can we please put my problems aside?"

I turned on my back and smiled up at her. "So . . .you're admitting to having issues?" I couldn't help but try to deflect, after all what I had said was true. And seriously, how could I complain to Ziva when she had been through hell with her own father?

"Tony, my point is that YOU have issues that need to be dealt with. Tonight." With a pointed look she shut down all my deflections..

I made a fist and tapped it on her knee. "Sorry. I didn't mean to bring up Director David. In fact, considering what you've been though, I really shouldn't be bothered about my situation. It's not a big deal. Considering my dad isn't sending me on suicide missions, I really need to just get over myself."

"Tony, this is not a competition. Just talk to me."

I looked intently at the ceiling. I was in no condition to argue with a ninja so conceded that I might as well admit defeat. "You've met my dad. In many ways he hasn't changed. He has always been a polished, well-liked guy. I mean, you can't get as far as he has without charm and personality. He was often away on business but when he was home he was pleasant enough. When Mother was alive he was good to her, but his chronic absences got to her and she used alcohol as her constant companion. She spent time with me. Honestly I didn't even mind the piano lessons or wearing the sailor suits because I liked the attention. When she was drunk the housekeeper would warn me that she was 'not feeling well'. Mother would fall into a depression and just sob. There was nothing I could do to make her stop crying. She would apologize the next morning and pay extra attention to me to make up for it, and I made it my mission to keep her distracted but I failed miserably, and one day she didn't wake up. She overdosed, Dad was away on business and I found her lying in a pool of vomit. Looking back I must have been in shock. I didn't cry or scream. I just sat and thought that as soon as I went for help they would take her away and I'd never see her again. Eventually a maid found me in the room and called 911 and then notified my father."

Sometime during my soliloquy Ziva had moved so that her back was against the headboard and she reached over and started working her fingers through my tuft of hair. I guess it hadn't been a hallucination. I did find it comforting enough to pause and close my eyes.

"You do know that there was nothing you could have done. She made her own decisions."

I willed myself to continue, "Yeah, I know that now. But then I always thought that if I just had been a better son that she would have had something worth living for. I wasn't enough and that reality stung. I didn't want to make the same mistake with my dad, at least at first. So, suddenly she's gone and he's clueless. Looking back, he really wasn't such a bad guy, I mean I think he just had no idea what to do with a kid, especially a difficult one like me. He did try to get me interested in business deals and making money and I knew that he was hoping that I'd be the little Mini-Me he always hoped for, but it was painfully obvious from early on that our relationship had very little common ground. It was easier for him to work. He liked having my picture and telling people about me, probably mostly lies to fit his delusions about what he wanted me to be. I tried not to disappoint him but the less I fit the mold of heir apparent, the less he talked to or about me and the more impatient he became with any disobedience. Disobedience got me noticed and as much as I hated tension, I wanted attention enough to invite it. Rarely did he yell, often he just locked himself away in his study. Knowing that I wanted attention, he fought hard not to give me any. I guess that was his best effort in child behavior management. Honestly, I never knew if leaving me in Hawaii was an act of real neglect or on some level he was trying to teach me a lesson or give me a chance to prove myself to him. Either way when he got a call from the hotel management he realized that what he had done was inappropriate. I honestly think that he didn't know that leaving a 12 year old across the ocean could be seen as cause for concern. Of course he smoothed everything over with generous compliments and his even more generous wallet. I was reclaimed without apology or fan fair and it was never mentioned again."

I was thankful that the heavy pain killers had worn off so I didn't let it slip to Ziva that I'd been so messed up that I had wet my bed each night in the hotel and for the following week. Maria, the housekeeper was very kind to me and kept him from finding out. I'll take that little detail to the grave with me.

"Tony, did he ever harm you?"

"I don't think he ever meant to."

Ziva's fingers were momentarily frozen. "But he did . . . hurt you?"

"Not often. Sometimes I know I asked for it, deliberately or subconsciencly. I'd do things like dribble my basketball around priceless statues or climb trees in view of his office window while he was in important meetings. I was way too old to be spanked, but he's be too angry to think of another way to deal with me. I made him look bad, and I couldn't fault him since I knew I was guilty as charged. Each time, the following day his apology would come in the form of a fifty-dollar bill, no note or mention of it again, he just went back to locking himself away from me and I had the means to escape to the fictional land of movies with my earnings."

I shifted uncomfortably when Ziva softly continued, "Was it ever more than that, Tony?"

"Only once." I shifted my eyes briefly in her direction and I noticed the look she got when there's a kid involved with a case. I'm no longer that kid, though and so I thought I better give her all the details so that she didn't get an overly dramatic impression.

"I was twelve, it was about a month after the Hawaii incident and he was giving a dinner. I was supposed to make an appearance in my tailored Italian suit at 8:10, shake hands with a few VIPs then I was free to hole up in my room and watch TV. I have to admit, I have always felt at home in a well tailored Italian suit . . . anyway, I was briefed the day before but when I woke up that Saturday all I could think was that it was the anniversary of Mother's death and even though it had been several years, I couldn't let it pass as a normal day. That afternoon I had asked Julie, a younger member of the staff, to drop me off at the cemetery on her way home. I placed flowers on Mother's grave and just sat and talked to her. I remember yawning then waking up hours later to a clap of thunder. It was dark, and I was momentarily at a loss as to where I was, then the dread soaked into my bones. I ran to find a phone to call for a Charles, the driver, to pick me up, as I prayed that my dad's event would be running late. I hadn't meant to mess with him that night, it was an honest mistake, but when I arrived at 8:45 through the front door, which was the quickest way to my room, instead of a vacant vestibule and the faint clamoring of utensils from the dining room, I was met with a crowd of people all facing towards my father who was giving a grandiose speech about some venture while using a piece of artwork on the wall as a talking piece. All eyes were on me as I silently slinked up the stairs. I heard my father say, "Good evening, Anthony. This is my son who is under the weather, I'm afraid." I stopped when I heard him address me and knew I was in for it. I politely looked and nodded at the crowd and as poised as I could be, I addressed them something like, 'I am sorry, Father, that my visit to the physician prevented me from attending the dinner. I can assure you that I am feeling much better.' then to the crowd, "I beg your pardon for the interruption. Please, have a lovely evening." I heard some people commenting on what a polite boy I was, but the thinly veiled look in my father's eyes told me I was anything but forgiven."

"I'd hoped the smooth talking I'd inherited from my father paid off and that it would be the end of it but as soon as I had gotten changed into my pajamas and left my room to get some snacks I met him in the hallway, his eyes furious. I knew that he must have excused himself for this purpose and for him to have left his guests - it was serious."

Ziva's silence urged me on.

"I told him that I was at Mother's grave and had fallen asleep, that I hadn't meant to do it. His reply was incredulous and he ranted on about how Mother's grave wasn't going anywhere but his guests this evening expected to be treated with respect and they were only here one night. Also that if they saw that he couldin't manage his own son how would they ever entrust him with their investments? I yelled that it was the day she had died and asked him how could he be so selfish not to remember. That sent him over the edge. He had forgotten and I know now that he felt guilty for it, although he would have never admited it. Instead he spouted off some words that I'd never forget. Icily he said, "How could I forget, that's the day I was left with you." Those were the last words he spoke to me for years and I let them replay often in my mind when I would see other kids get excited to go home over breaks. It calmed me and comforted me that I was better off where I was."

I let the story sink in and Ziva did nothing to break the silence. "I know now that he was living on one scam after another and that he had a legitimate reason to be concerned if those dollars didn't appear. I didn't realize the extent of what the consequences could have been for him, or at least what he feared they would be. In my mind there were always banquets and meetings and money flowing in. After his tirade I'd had enough and pushed by him towards the back staircase and, being sick of my lack of appreciation for his situation, he grabbed me, pushed me against the wall then when I yelped, he picked me up, shook me to be quiet then not knowing what else to do, shoved me towards the marble stairs to get me out of his sight but he pushed harder than he expected and I not so gracefully tumbled down. The last thing I saw was his shocked expression then I blacked out. I woke up with my first concussions, a few cracked ribs, a broken arm and a split lip. I knew he hadn't intended to hurt me, Ziva. In a way it really _was _an accident."

"Tony, he could have killed you. Even if he didn't intend to push you down the stairs, he had hurt you before that happened. That must have been a terrible thing to live through."

I lightly laughed, "Yeah, look who's –"

She put up her hand to cut me off. "Tonight is not about me, remember. There are always people worse off, but that does not negate the fact that what he did to you was abuse. What happened when you regained consciousness?"

"I found out later that he had Maria go with me to the hospital. He went back to his banquet, Maria and Charles drove me in and took good care of me, but they knew better than to tell the hospital staff the whole truth, otherwise they would be out of jobs and they would not be around to look out for me."

"It was summer so I hadn't missed any school during my hospitalization, and when I returned home I was isolated in my room to further recover so that no one would see the injuries and ask questions. I could honestly say that I fell down the stairs, so I didn't have to lie, just omit parts of the truth. One morning I woke up and there was a brochure for a military academy, a $100 bill and no other message. Maria came in, her hands shaking and she tried to be calm as she patted down my hair, kissed my forehead and told me that I would need to pack for school and that I would be going away for at least a year. She then cried and hugged me like I hadn't been hugged since Mother's final guilt ridden attention fest. I always liked Maria."

By now Ziva had eased herself down so that she was lying about a foot away from me on top of the comforter, giving me a very compassionate look. "Tony . . . I am so sorry." She took her hand from my hair and firmly placed it on my arm for emphasis

"Ziva, I know that sounds horrible, but really, I think it really scared Senior that he hurt me and he didn't trust himself not to do it again, and that is why he sent me away. I guess on some level it was to keep me safe. Anyway, I had a great time at school, made some close friends for the first time in my life and had the freedom to do sports and get dirty now and then. In hindsight he did me a favor."

"That does not change what happenedl. That could not have been easy to get over."

"No, it wasn't. I went for years wishing the old man would die. It sounds awful, but being an orphan seemed like a more palatable option than always being under this cloud of tension that this relationship was out there and I was tired of dealing with the angst of it all. Would he call? Would I ever get to come home? Would he ever want me again? Ultimately all the answers were no, but the questions hung out there. Have I mentioned that I really hate tension, Ziva?"

"Yes, you have mentioned it." She smiled at me.

"You have a beautiful smile." I hoped I hadn't just say that out loud. She had started laughing, so I guess that answered that. "Tony, I will assume that comment should be in the same category as Tom Jones' music, correct?"

"Uh, yeah, sorry, I guess the head injury is impairing my mental filter a little bit." I pinched my thumb and forefinger for emphasis

"But not your good taste. Not to worry, Tony." She leaned over and kissed my forehead. "Would you like more medication so you can sleep?" I nodded and she handed me the pills, which I swallowed as I prayed that they would make me sleep before I could start singing her praises.

Ziva gently took the bandage off my head and inspected the staples. It was an odd thought that someone had taken a stapler to my head. At least I wasn't awake at the time. I'll never look at my mighty mouse office supplies in quite the same way again.

She hummed what I assume to be some Israeli lullaby to soothe me while she put ointment on the wounds and rewrapped my head. I drowsily asked, "Ziva, will you sleep with me tonight?" Okay, that hadn't sounded as suggestive before it came out of my mouth. In fact I really didn't know it was going to come out of my mouth, or that it was what I wanted, but after I had said it I realized that having her here when I woke up did sound like a nice idea.

"Of course I will." She helped me to get up and walk to the bathroom and left me to brush my teeth and take care of business then she helped me back to bed. She pulled back the covers then tucked them under my chin, cleaned up the bandages, pulled open my drawers to find clothes that might fit her, went to the bathroom to change, then laid on top of the covers on the other side with a throw blanket over top of her. She was still eyeing me as I said, "Thanks, Ninja."

"Anytime." She started running her fingers through my hair and I sighed my contentment and fell into a deep sleep.


	3. DiNozzo Hallmark Moments

**A/N Thanks for the reviews so far. This chapter is dedicated everyone that can't quite find that perfect greeting card. . . **

**Chapter 3**

**DiNozzo Hallmark Moments**

**(still Tony's POV)**

When I awoke I heard snorting like a sailor and knew was was not alone. That peace only lasted a moment before I remembered that I had whined all last night and had a giant pity party in front of my partner. I cringed and she stirred.

"Are you awake?" She asked before opening her eyes fully.

"Yeah. You sleep well?"

"I did, and you? How is the pain?"

At that she rolled to face me. Ziva was lying in my bed, looking and me with those exotic eyes . . . I found that I was feeling no pain for that instant. Unfortunately, the moment passed all too quickly.

"It's better." We were both lying still for a few long moments. "Hey, Ziva, I'm really sorry about last night. I had no right to dump all that on you and really, I can't believe I've let it all get to me. It was a long time ago and I've got a great life. Don't think any more about it, okay?"

She propped up on one elbow and looked at me with an intensity that should not exist early in the morning. "Nothing you told me last night was petty, Tony. It has helped me to understand why you have been distracted and it was a relief to be the one listening for once." The intensity turned to a smile at the admission of how much she had been in the team's limelight in the past year and she was enjoying the role reversal.

After breakfast and another bandage change, which I enjoyed much more than I should admit, Ziva sat down on a chair next to the couch that I was sprawled on, sipped her cup of tea but did not go for the remote. I knew I was in for more talking. This both frightened and relieved me. Was that strange? I really couldn't wait until my head was right again.

"Tony, what is it that you think your father wants from you?"

I sighed. I was at her mercy again so knew I might as well finish my all night shrink session. I preferred it be with Ziva than anyone else so I might as well get it all out of my system.

"I guess I should continue where I left off last night so you get the whole picture." I paused to get my thoughts together. "Okay, so I went off to military school, didn't hear word one from Senior directly. I would get typed letters notifying me that I was to remain at school or go to this or that summer camp, all signed by his secretary. She would include handwritten notes from herself and a few members of the staff after Dad had approved the formal notifications. I was informed in my first letter that I could expect to have tuition and school related expenses taken care of through high school and then I would be expected to show initiative and make my own way from there on out. It also detailed that I could expect no inheritance."

"Like I said last night, life was good and I enjoyed school and excelled at parts of it. It was possible for me to forget that Dad existed most of the time and I began to think of him as some distant relative that I once knew while focusing on my newfound 'brothers'. So, I made it all the way through to graduation without being forced to deal with him again. At graduation he showed up. He had a big smile plastered on his face, no doubt for the benefit of his good reputation in front of these nice, lucrative people. I was shocked but despite internal alarms going off everywhere I reverted back to what I had learned from him. I met him with the same overdone smile and gave him a hug and a 'thanks for coming' which he met with an equally forced 'I'm proud of you, Son.' It was certainly a DiNozzo hallmark moment. He gave me a card with $1,000 in it and a typed message that he had pulled strings to get me into Harvard School of Business. I had no idea this was coming, or that I would ever see the man again, much less actually expect any financial or political help from him. I had taken his earlier admonition to heart. I worked my way through school physically, since the only way I could earn a scholarship was through sports. My grades were okay but despite my best efforts I was not MIT material, or even Ohio State academic scholarship material, so I poured myself into sports so I could get an education and make something of myself by doing something that I loved."

I paused and Ziva took another sip but didn't comment so I continued.

"Anyway, when I opened the envelope I was shocked. His smug smile told me all I needed to know. His lips said, 'no need to thank me, Son,' but how I translated it was, 'If you take this you will be indebted to me for life.' My buddy, Alex, who was from Ohio and it was his family that took me in a few times and turned me into a Buckeye fan, chose this time to come up to me and say, 'Hey, we'll have to get together when you're at OSU and I'm at Dennison. It's not that far and Mom and Dad would love to have you visit them, too. I'm sure that Nora wouldn't even mind doing your laundry for you – she always does make sure there is a mint on your pillow every time you visit!' Needless to say this perceived one-upmanship and the revelation that I was going to a dreaded state school was a slap in his face. He assumed that I would turn around and tell Alex that I had no intention of going to OSU anymore and I would be going to Harvard. Instead I replied that I was looking forward to it and to let his parents and motherly housekeeper, Nora, know that they could expect me often. Dad was fuming. I gave him back the card and politely thanked him but let him know I already had college paid for. I really was shocked that he came, and found that I was reluctantly disappointed when he stormed off completely at a loss for words at my Ivy-League level rejection."

"After that he knew he had nothing to hold over me. He was not supporting me financially, and I didn't have a need for his money. I needed nothing from him and all he knew how to do was buy people. We didn't talk again for years. I sent him a card with my address at the frat house at OSU but he never came to see me during that time. I would get wedding invitations and politely show at the receptions to kiss the new wife and show her some kindness. After all, it wasn't any of their faults that they were taken in by him. At that point I really didn't hate the guy, just had no desire to be around him. I did the minimum that I thought I should do as a son. I sent Christmas cards and change of address notifications. I tried looking at Father's Day cards for several years but they just don't make any that say. 'You're my father so I feel compelled to send you a card.'

Ziva laughed at this and said, "Yes, I have that same difficulty. None say, 'thank you for teaching me to withstand an interrogation and how to torture people for the good of my country.' It is an overly sentimental industry, these American greeting cards."

"I couldn't agree more." The laughing made my head hurt and Ziva saw me cringe. She sat up and motioned for me to sit up for a moment. She sat on the couch, grabbed a pillow for her lap then eased me back down so my head was in her lap. She started working her fingers through my hair again.

"Better?"

"Hmmm."

"You're due for more pain meds in about half an hour so you need to stay awake for that long. Can you do that for me, Tony?"

"Hmmm." Translation: I would do anything for you if you just keep moving those fingers.

"Keep talking, that way I know you are awake."

When I didn't answer right away she pulled her fingers out of my hair and lightly slapped my cheek, "Hey, what was that for?"

"Not doing as I ask. Now talk or these fingers will not touch the 'perfect DiNozzo hair' for the rest of the day!"

"I do have nice hair, and you do have nice fingers." I feel the light smack to the top of the head.

"Talking. Right. Uhhh, let's see. Yeah, so as the years went by I only talked to him once or twice a year. He would ask benign questions and I would give him curt answers. I really didn't want to hear about business deals or be regaled with incessant name dropping so I kept the conversations as short and impersonal as possible. I was shocked when he waltzed in here last year. I hadn't spent that much time with him since I was 12. He did have me rattled, but I don't need to tell you that. You also know that he's broke and has been skirting the system for some time. He was going to confess it to me then I gave him a way out. I can't even really say why I did it. I think part of it was so that we could continue this facade because it was familiar, and partly because I couldn't take any more of his forced sentimentality. I didn't want to be begged for help or told how much he regretted the past because I know it would have been a lie. Maybe not really a lie, because I know he has regrets. He did what he felt he had to do but he doesn't know me and I really don't know him and I just don't feel like making any sort of emotional investment in the man. I can't handle seeing him being needy, especially since I worked hard to get to a point where I don't need anything from him."

Ziva kept true to the promise of my head massage as I kept up the conversation. She thought then contributed, "It is not natural for children to have to clean up after a parent's mess."

"The thing of it is I have no idea what I should do. What if he wants to move to DC? I hope things haven't gotten that bad, but he has to be desperate to even be calling. I just want to keep him at a distance, where things are pleasant and there are no expectations."

Ziva considered that, "Maybe you should talk to him and find out. Sometimes worrying about what might happen is worse than the reality of the situation."

"I know, I know, and I have been telling myself the same thing. With everything else that's been going on I've felt justified in my procrastination but now I can't help thinking that it could have been you Gibbs or McGee hurt instead of me . . . Ziva, I couldn't forgive myself if that were the case." I glanced up at her for a second to register the hesitation in her eyes.

"There is no use crying over spilt blood, Tony. I did not get injured and can quite adequately take care of myself. I am, however, worried about you . . . why are you laughing at me?"

"It's crying over spilled milk, although blood does seem more appropriate given the circumstances."

"Tony, take your pills."

"Yes, Ma'am."


	4. Paternity

**A/N: ****This chapter goes out to everyone who looked forward to the Love Boat/Fantasy Island prime time line up. Many reference will be lost on those who never knew a time when cartoons were only on on Saturday mornings, who don't know who JR is (much less who shot him), and never giggled at the novelty of 'fast-forwarding' and 'rewinding' a VHS tape (or Beta Max) for the first time. Yes, much like Special Agent DiNozzo, I am NOT a newer model!**

**Chapter 4**

**Paternity**

**(Gibbs POV)**

I'd been blind to what had been going on outside my own house. I'd pulled everyone into my obsession. It was to save my father, and so no one would question if it was justified, but at what cost? I'd already lost Abby's devotion but while I used all my spare energy making it up to her, I'd had no time for the rest of my team. They'd been on their own all summer, plugging along, working hard to exonerate me by securing the Reynosas' arrest. All summer they'd hedged me from anything outside our Reynosa mission, and I had no idea what I'd missed.

Sure, I didn't ever pry, but part of my job was to monitor and assess them so that I knew when there was cause for concern. I should'a seen that DiNozzo was stressed. He was covering it and I didn't catch it. Last time Senior showed up Tony was so distracted that he needed me to step in. He needed reassurance from a man who'd actually been there for him and treated him how a son should be treated. I stopped treating him right last summer. I didn't know if he held me in the same regard anymore. I felt like I was just a shadow of the man they thought I was 6 months ago.

I sighed as I loosened my grip on my pencil and realized that I'd been blankly staring at Tony's desk for a full ten minutes. I didn't know where to start, so I started running the evidence that I had. Senior had been calling Tony, Tony had been putting him off and that all caused him to be too distracted to do his job. He was out of commission for a few days and I ordered Ziva to be his protection detail, although she was sworn not to inform him of that fact. I smiled as I thought of how much he most likely didn't mind her executing that particular order. I knew that despite the flirting, they'd be able to watch each other's backs, and that included emotionally. Neither one would instigate some fling with the other. Before something happened they would both have to be certain it was the right thing, and they'd have to be certain enough to confront me about it because I'd know. If they ever were willing to discuss it with me, it would be proof enough that they deserve each other.

I decided not to over think it the situation with Senior. I picked up the phone and dialed. Once the call had been made I filled out some overdue personal paperwork and went home to finish a project I should have completed months ago. It was time to make amends.

-The following day-

I looked up from my paper and coffee, "Thanks for meeting with me."

"Of course, you and Junior are close, how could I refuse?" The familiar grin was plastered on his face and although it carried a shade of resemblance to Tony's it was nowhere near as charming, or sincere. He motioned to the waitress, "Carole, what a beautiful name. Could you get me a coffee, please? Thank you ever so much. By the way, that color really brings out those beautiful brown eyes."

I tried really hard not to roll my eyes.

"So, what can I do for you, Agent Gibbs? Junior's not causing any problems, I hope?"

I took a long sip of my coffee. "No, no he's not. The only problem that I seem to be having with him is an overabundance of personal calls coming in. Would you know anything about that, Mr. DiNozzo?"

Carole returned, "Thanks, Dear." She smiled and he turned his attention back to me, "Please, call me Tony." Not likely.

"A father has a right to call his own son, and I can't see how that is any of your concern. He is your employee and he is not talking to me during business hours so you have no need to interfere." I leaned back and crossed my arms. I was not in the mood to compete for our place in Tony's life. We both knew that in the one objective way, genetically, he would win, but in every other way he would fall well short compared to me. I bet he didn't realize how much he was bleeding insecurity. I had to remind myself that I was here for Tony and refrain from walking out.

"That is the point. He isn't talking to you, not because he's been ordered not to, not because he's been overly busy the past few days. So, why do you think that is?"

His grin morphed into a sneer, then he looked away and sighed. "I realize that Anthony feels that his childhood was not perfect and I won't deny that I could have been more . . . involved, but that is in the past and we really connected the last time I visited. Can you fault a guy for wanting to spend time with his only child?"

"No, normally I can't. A word of advice, though, you need to back off."

"Excuse me."

"Back off. I don't know why you're here but Tony has worked hard to be independent of you and I am not willing to see him distracted like he was the last time you breezed into his life. I'm not saying stay away forever, all I'm saying is that if you want your son to _want_ you in his life, you have to take it slowly and try to earn his trust. There are a lot of issues there and your relationship has to be on his terms. I don't know what you're planning here, but I am aware of your 'situation.' I am warning you that you are NOT to hint to him that you need money, you are NOT to touch any of his bank accounts, and you certainly are NOT going to ask him for a place to stay."

I kept my eyes on him while I took another long draw on my coffee to let him process the message. I knew I'd ruffled him and had hit the nail on the head. He looked so indignant and opened his mouth to put me in my place but for probably the first time in his life he had no words. He actually looked broken.

It was obvious he needed prompting, "I will ask again, what is your intention?"

He very dramatically rose.

"Tell Carole that the coffee was delightful. I will be taking the train out of town tomorrow. And one more thing," For once his expression looked honest., "please tell Junior that I am sorry, about everything."

"He needs to hear that from you. I will tell Tony that you contacted me to let him know that you are planning to leave town. It will be up to him if he makes contact."

He nodded his agreement, then looked me in the eye. "I have made mistakes in my life. I did the best I could, whether you believe that or not, that is the truth. I can't pretend that I don't resent your relationship with him, but you obviously are to him what I will never be. Look after him, Agent Gibbs."

As I stood, I found myself pitying this man for what he has lost, or more accurately what he has deprived himself of. "It's Jethro, and I always do." I held out my hand, he shook it and walked out, sticking me with the bill. I couldn't help but smile at the predictability of it all.

I knocked on Tony's door and was not surprised to be met by Ziva, dressed in Tony's clothes. She takes her assignments seriously and I didn't expect that she would have taken the time to go home and pack when I had asked her to have Tony's six. She let me in quietly so I knew he was asleep.

"I was just making tea, would you like some, or I could make you some coffee."

"I've had two coffees already. Tea would be great." I knew from years of friendship with Ducky that in many cultures tea is more than a drink, but an invitation for conversation and I wanted Ziva to feel like I was here not just on business.

"Did you apprehend the suspect?"

"Yeah, McGee did his tracing protocols or whatever he does and we got a location and cornered him. We have his confession and even the paperwork has been processed and put to rest. How's your assignment going?" I nodded to the other room. I noticed the lack of blankets on the couch, but again, Ziva wouldn't let an injured partner out of her sight so I wasn't surprised she'd stay in the bedroom with him. Maybe I chose not to interpret the evidence in a more conventional way, but my gut agreed with my assessment that it was all business, or mostly business with Ziva. She had a nurturing side that she didn't let show often, but that was precisely why I'd left her with a vulnerable DiNozzo. She'd take care of him, not just change his bandages, but she'd get him to talk if he needed to.

"He seems to be doing better, his wounds are healing and I have cut back his pain medication at his request but now instead of making him sleep it's making him nearly unbearable. I am not sure if I can handle one more rendition of 'The Love Boat.' What exactly is "The Love Boat?" When I asked him he just broke out in song again, then spouted out something about a cruise director, a dreamy island and a tattooed midget with a plane. Then there's some song about Amarillo that he sings each time he notices his pillow, which is very often. Gibbs, can I please cut him off so he will once again be lucid?"

I sip my tea to hide my smile, "Sounds like he's been reliving the 70's, before your time. How are you doing? You get any sleep?"

"Yes, I am fine. Actually, despite the ballads and his need to be babied, he has been a cooperative patient."

"Has he talked to you about what's been bothering him?" She hesitated, which told me all I needed to know. "You don't need to give me details, just tell me he's getting it all off his chest." At her look of confusion, no doubt trying to think of what his chest hair has to do with anything, I clarified, "he's talking it out, right?"

"Yes, more than I would have expected. I do not even think it was entirely because of the pain medication." She paused, "Gibbs, he did not swear me to secrecy and while I do not want to divulge all that he told me . . . well, did you know that his father hurt him badly enough that he was hospitalized as child?"

I looked at my teacup. I never admitted those words, even to myself, but once Ziva said them out loud, I realized that I'd known it for a long time. It didn't need to be spoken between Tony and me, but I was glad that he had confided in her.

"I knew he was neglected and suspected there was more."

"He tried very hard to defend his father and that is very troubling to me." I raised an eyebrow and gave her a pointed look. "Gibbs, we are NOT discussing me. This is about Tony right now."

"I met with his father earlier. Without giving me details he said that he regretted what had happened, but, Ziva, words are easy. That is why I hate apologies. He knows what he's lost, but none of that erases what he did to his own son. Senior will be living with the consequences for the rest of his life." I put down my cup, looked at her and said quietly, "You two have an abusive history in common. Tony knew you'd understand. I'm glad he talked to you about it."

We shared a comfortable silence.

"Ziva, I need to talk to him and by the looks of you I'm guessing you could use a shower and change of clothes." I got up and offered her my hand. She smiled at the uncharacteristic gesture, after she stood I kept hold of her hand then said, "Before you go, I need to say something else. This summer has not been a good one. I have put all my energy into the case and I haven't had much time for anything else. I missed your ceremony and that is something I will always regret. I had started this for you months before it, but I didn't get it finished until last night." I pulled out a gift bag from my backpack and she looked at me then opened it and inspected the personally hand crafted replica of the Santa Maria.

She gave me a hug and kissed my cheek. "It is perfect. Thank you, Gibbs. This will always be very precious to me." She kept a hand on my shoulder and looked me straight in the eye.

"As for the rest of what you said, it is our job to keep each other and our family safe, and that includes Jackson. It was a rough summer but we all did what we needed to do. You are safe, Jackson has his life in Stillwater back, and aside from Tony's concussion we are all in one piece. You are still the man you were before. Do not doubt what you mean to us." She gave me one more kiss before gathering her things to leave Tony in my care.

I really did not deserve her.


	5. Someone to Watch Over Me

**A/N I will post the remaining 2 chapters today then this will come to a close. **

**Chapter 5**

**Someone to Watch Over Me**

**(Tony's POV)**

I vaguely remembered the past 24 hours, once Ziva had cut my medication. I no doubt chatted uncontrollably. I just prayed that the more incriminating memories of that time were dreams and that I hadn't really repeatedly suggested that Ziva feathered her hair, I hadn't really covered the BeeGees greatest hits, or worse that I hadn't really serenaded Gibbs with 'Someone to Watch Over Me' when I had assumed it was Ziva in the next room. I reluctantly opened my eyes then to my horror saw not Ziva, but Gibbs staring at me from a chair that had been pulled into my bedroom. That explained the lack of a nice head massage as I came around.

I hid my face with my hand, "Gibbs, I didn't!"

"Uh-huh." That thought alone would keep me from ever considering a drug addiction.

"Uh, sorry about that, Boss. You know how I get. I mean I like you and all but that was a bit over the top, even for me. Won't happen again."

He smirked, and I had to admit I earned it, "Don't make promises you can't keep, DiNozzo."

"Right." He gave me time to fully regain my composure and eyed me as I sat up in my bed.

"You okay to be up?"

I scratched at my bandage, "Yeah, the pain's a lot duller and I think I can manage it now without any of the heavy stuff."

"Ziva'll be happy to hear that, not that you weren't entertaining."

"Oh, I'm sure I was, and I'm also sure she won't let me live it down any time soon."

I nodded my head to the side, "Nah, I think she'll go a little easier on you than normal."

I must have looked uncomfortable as I digested the meaning behind Gibb's words.

"I know you put her up to it. Did she give you a full report?" I started to resent being set up.

"No, Tony. I didn't ask for details and she didn't offer, but I doubt there was anything said between the two of you that I hadn't already suspected." I got the compassionate Gibbs stare and it was unsettling.

"Yeah, Senior wasn't dad of the year. We were just a really toxic mix."

"Tony, even if you two had differences it is a dad's responsibility to take care of his son, no matter what. Your dad failed you, he hurt you and he abandoned you. You have a right to be upset about that."

"He had his reasons. Anyway, I'm not a kid anymore and he's no longer that guy, so it seems like it shouldn't bother me so much." The stare said otherwise. "I know, I let my guard down because of him. I can see the t-shirt now, 'My dad came to DC and all I got were these stinking staples."

"Tony, he's your dad, I know you still care about him on some level, or else he wouldn't rattle you so much. So, what is it that you want from him? Do you have any desire to see him right now?"

"I don't know what he wants and that is what has me on edge. I hate unpredictability, I know, probably not a good quality in a cop." I could read Gibbs' expression warning me not to cut on myself, so even though I was sort of joking, I let it go. "Anyway, for years I was comfortable with only exchanging a few words each year and not having any face to face contact. I didn't have to worry about him stopping in or dropping a sentimental bombshell on me. Despite everything I don't wish him any ill will. I just don't think I can handle having him _here._ Gibbs, I am afraid he is going to move to DC and need me to support him, and I don't mean just financially. I don't know _how_ to be around him, and I don't want to rehash all the memories that would bring with it. I already am distracted at the thought that it _might _happen and because of that I didn't have Ziva's six. My skull can take a beating now and then, but I won't risk anyone else's."

I had gotten worked up so I curbed my big mouth and tried to calm myself. This was not going well. I was destined to be committed by the resident NCIS shrink.

Gibbs considered all I had said. He motioned for me to lie down on my stomach as he gathered the bandaging materials. I faced away from him to gather my thoughts and let him have easier access to the wound. He took off the old wrap then I felt his gentle calloused hands put the medicated goop on the cuts and I felt a tear slide down into my pillow. Then another. I didn't make a sound, I didn't move. He was only doing the same thing that Ziva had done, but it felt different. Growing up Mother would kiss my skinned knees and Maria stayed with me in the hospital and cared for me afterwards at home, but my dad had never touched me like that, no man ever had. Suddenly, I knew what I had missed all these years. A few sniffs betrayed my weakness but instead of the "DiNozzo men don't cry," that I heard at Mother's funeral, Gibbs started to rub my back and silently let me work through it. I finally drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

When I awoke Gibbs was asleep in the chair. I hadn't realized how much I'd feared that he'd be gone. My stirring woke him up. Neither of us spoke at first. If I didn't know what to say, I was certain that Gibbs would be at a loss for words. Oddly, I didn't feel awkward despite the silence.

I stretched and told him I really wanted a shower and I must have looked well enough for him to allow it. He reminded me not to get my hair wet, as he got up and took a look around the room.

While in the shower I thought back to Gibbs' question yesterday. What do I want? An easier question might have been what did I need. I needed space from Senior, I needed to be able to focus on my work, I needed to get over this concussion, and after last night I realized that I needed . . . a dad, but not Senior. Once I had that coherent thought I felt a sense of calm settle over me. I turned off the water and dressed in regular clothes rather than track gear or pajamas.

I had turned a corner.

When I came out I noticed that Gibbs had tidied the bedroom and kitchen and had a pot of coffee brewing. "That smells good, it's been days since I've had coffee. Ziva, the Concussion Nazi, wouldn't let me have caffeine because she said I needed my sleep. I knew better than to argue with her when I was at a disadvantage."

"Very wise, DiNozzo, but I think it's more likely that she needed a break from the seventies and could only manage that if you were sleeping. So, have you taken your pain meds today?"

"Yeah, but only the over-the-counter stuff so I shouldn't need constant supervision anymore."

That reminded me of last night and Gibbs tending to me. I needed to say something. I drew in a breath and just started talking, yet again. "Hey, Gibbs, you asked me what I wanted when it came to my dad and I've had a little time to think about it. Ironically he has not tried to contact me since the concussion." After I said those words I realized that this would fall less under the umbrella of irony and more under coincidence, and I knew with Gibbs there were no coincidences. My head snapped up in his direction.

"I was going to tell you last night but you fell asleep so I'll tell you now. Your father is leaving DC today. He didn't tell me why he was here exactly, and I told him that I would let you know he was leaving and that it would be up to you whether you wanted to see him or not."

He paused to let this sink in.

"Tony, he wanted me to tell you that he was sorry . . . for everything." I looked at my hands folded in my lap. I waited a long time to hear those words from Dad. I was not sure if hearing "I'm sorry." Or "I love you," was a bigger shock coming from him. I also didn't believe that he was capable of understanding truly what love or forgiveness were, so those declarations didn't hold much weight. However, I was pretty sure that he meant them to the best of his capability and that should be worth something.

"Gibbs, what do you think I should do?" I could tell he had an opinion on the matter, but his reply was very careful.

"You don't owe him anything, Tony, but he is your father. I think you should decide what the ground rules for him should be and tell him. He will respect them now. For him there is too much at stake."

Ground rules. I'd never thought of dictating rules to the all powerful Anthony DiNozzo Senior, but I also couldn't handle the unpredictability that surrounded our relationship so it wasn't a bad idea. I thought about my options and decided that I needed to do this in person. "Gibbs, could you chauffer me to see him in a little bit?"

"Of course, if that is what you want."

"Want might be a too strong a word, but it's something I have to do. And Gibbs, thanks." He knew that was for more than the offer of a ride.

"Anytime, kid."

I had sent a text to Sr. asking him to meet me for lunch outside the train station. He was waiting for me, looking as polished as ever, big, self-satisfied smile on his face. No doubt he had considered this meeting as a win in the ongoing Sr. vs. Gibbs tug-of-war. I doubted that he would leave feeling the same way.

He stood up and gave me an exuberant hug. "Thanks for meeting me, Dad."

"Of course, Junior, anything for you. What happened to your head?"

"Got knocked around by a suspect, nothing to worry about."

"Why didn't you tell me, Son? I could have helped you." I was forcing a smile because honestly it would have never occurred to me to call my dad if I were hurt. I would never let him see me vulnerable.

"Believe me, Dad, I was well looked after."

"Oh, so what's her name?" I couldn't resist crushing that twinkle in his eye.

"Gibbs. So, how've you been, Dad?" He quickly masked the irritation.

"Honestly, I've been better, but things are looking up now."

"Hmmm, looking up? I kind of figured since you wanted to talk to me about your 'situation' that things weren't all that great, at least in the business sense. What's changed?"

"I had some time to think about my options. Junior, you know when you were young I wanted you to go into business so you could eventually be my partner. I realize now that I was wrong to try to push you into it. You are obviously very good at what you do and you have a good life here. You're surrounded by people who care about you," he leaned closer, "and some of them are remarkably beautiful." he gave me a wink. "You have a job you love with a steady income and a pension. I've had a very exciting life, but it has come at a cost, Anthony." Suddenly I realized how much he had aged.

"Since I'm now at a crossroads with many of my business deals, I'd been thinking about a change of pace and maybe settling down, possibly in DC, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I would have better business prospects closer to New York. I have some friends who have asked me to stay with them for a while and I am going to take them up on it until I can reclaim some of my losses."

I was left to wonder if I was simply a loss to reclaim. At least I knew that I wasn't wrong to worry about him wanting to move here, but it seemed that Gibbs had come to my rescue once again. Dad had been so persistent with his texts and e-mails,so nothing short of a blatant warning would have changed his mind.

"I hope things turn around for you, I really do." I started to rise, but he put a hand out to motion me to sit again.

"Junior . . . I never meant to . . . that is . . . you deserved better."

I looked at him not sure what to say or even what to think. This was the closest we had come to discussing the 'stair incident' and all that came after. I didn't feel the need to rehash it. We both knew what happened and why. I knew he wanted my forgiveness and while I didn't want to get all gushy and start a more conventional father/son relationship, I also was not hard-hearted enough to deny him some peace. He'd had years to think about what he had done to me, and whether I said that I forgave him or not, it was in the past. He would be living with the consequences for the rest of his life either way. I might not have wanted him to stay under my roof, but I could ease his mind on this one score. In the end I took pity on him.

"Dad . . . I understand. What's done is done, I don't hold it against you anymore." His eyes started tearing up and although I didn't share the same emotional response, it did convince me that he was sincere. I thought back to my conversation with Gibbs and figured I would push a little harder.

"Listen, Dad. Like you said, I have a good life going for me here. I would like to have dinner with you from time to time if you are passing through, but right now my job would not allow for more than that."

"Of course, Son. I'll let you know where I'm staying and if you find yourself in New York I'd love to see you. I probably won't be this way for a while, but I will let you know when I am and we can check out some of the fine restaurants in DC . . . you can introduce me to your favorite Italian places, that is if you are not too busy at the time."

"I can't make any promises since murders don't work on a schedule, but it sounds like a nice idea." I stood again and this time he lets me.

"Take care of yourself, Dad." I offered him my hand but instead of taking it he stood and hugged me then said quietly.

"I really am sorry, son."

I hug him back and say, "Dad, it's okay."

"Thanks, Junior." He gathered his things then left for the train station, leaving me with the bill. Once I laid some cash on the table I exited the restaurant and turned the corner to find Gibbs.

"Boss, can you take me home? I have a killer headache."

He looked me up and down and saw that I'd survived. "Sure." When we were in the car he followed that up with, "How'd it go?"

"Well . . . he apologized, twice. Seemed to mean a lot to him, but I can't say I feel much different. I'm relieved it's over though."

We drove in silence back to my place. Gibbs seemed content and I knew it was because he went to bat for me and hit a grand slam. He had been self-absorbed and distant all summer, but instead of offering some lame apology he had been working towards rebuilding our relationship and that meant more to me than shallow words ever would. I realized that he never chewed me out for dropping the ball with the suspect or putting Ziva in danger. He knew that I'd beat myself up over the incident well enough, so instead he saw the underlying problem and took care of me through the distraction so I could be a better agent, a more effective partner and simply a guy who is more at peace without tension headaches.

When we returned to my apartment he walked me to the door but only came in for a few minutes.

"As long as you do alright the rest of the day and tonight, you are clear to come back to work in the morning."

"Yes!"

"DiNozzo, you will be on light desk duty, come in when you feel like it but make sure you are there by 11. You won't want to miss out."

"Well, that was cryptic."

"Ziva will be over later with dinner and she'll drive you in tomorrow. Anything else you need, Tony?"

"Not unless you can get me into witness protection before Ziva arrives."

"DiNozzo, I'm sure there's no need for that, but you may want to hide your knives in case you accidentally refer to her as your 'personal cruise director' one more time."

With one last smirk he left me to myself for the first time since it all started.


	6. A Sign of Strength

**A/N Here it is, the final chapter. Hope you enjoy it. **

**Chapter 6**

**A Sign of Strength**

**(Tony's POV)**

Ziva brought me company and lasagna. Abby needed to see for herself what damage had been done to me and my hair. At least she understood the pain to my vanity. She gushed over me while Tim ribbed me about the hair, my thick skull and other endearing brotherly insults. Funny how it had only been a few days but I missed being teased and teasing him. He was such a perfect little probiesan. I started thinking of how I could make him feel warm and fuzzy about my return. Gluing his keyboard had been overdone, and I knew I couldn't top "Clare the Level 5 Sorceress," so that left something in between. At least I had 12 more hours to consider it.

Ziva hadn't talked much, just eyed me with a mixture of concern and relief, probably that I was back in the current decade and not serenading her. We watched a movie, the original Star Wars since I was still feeling a connection to the seventies. I was thankful that I had the where-with-all not to suggest that Ziva put her hair in buns. Abby fell asleep leaning against McGee so when the movie ended he gently poked at her to wake up.

"MCGEE! I was comfy!"

"I know, Abby, but it's time to head home. Don't worry, I've got you." He helped her to stand and slung her arm around his shoulder to take some of her weight. Abby drowsily said goodbye, McGee nodded then they walked through the door, leaving Ziva in the kitchen cleaning up.

I leaned in the doorway and crossed my arms, "You don't have to do that, you know. I'm not incapacitated anymore."

"Enjoy it while you can, Tony. I'm not about to volunteer to be your maid after tonight."

I smiled at her, "Well then I better enjoy the view of you being domestic while I can."

She squinted her eyes at me then finished cleaning under my silent supervision. Afterwards she looked me up and down.

"You look better, Tony. Much more rested and calm. How are you feeling, really?"

I motioned for her to come and sit on the couch. I grabbed a pillow, threw it at her lap then laid across the couch on my stomach and collapsed on her. She humored me by running her fingers through my hair. After a moment of silence I felt the familiar slap on my cheek, "Talk, Tony, remember?"

"Oh yeah, sorry. My head feels better. I'm off the heavy pain meds so of course I am now extremely mortified at how I behaved. Sorry you had to be a witness to it, or should I say a victim of it." I looked up at her sheepishly.

She started to laugh manically. "Oh, Tony, you have nothing to be sorry about. I will now have ammunition for years to come. You do a remarkable Tom Jones impersonation, by the way." Oh yeah, I'm so dead. I hide my head in my pillow and murmur, "I bet you say that to all the doped up injured guys."

"No, Tony, I am more convinced than ever that you are one-of-a-kind." With that she started to scratch my back with her other hand.

After another comfortable silence she asked me, "Tony how are you feeling about everything with your dad?"

I sighed, but not out of frustration as much as closure, "Gibbs intercepted him at first and told Senior to back off. By the time I talked to him he was contrite enough to apologize for being such a poor excuse for a father, but he was set on not intruding in my life beyond that. If I had a beer right now I'd be toasting Gibbs up and down."

"If you had a beer right now you would be fantasizing about me wearing double buns, which is precisely why I did not allow you to have one earlier. You have enough regrets, but do not worry, you will be free to drink what you like starting tomorrow after work."

After a short pause I got back to our more serious topic. "He did apologize to me, Senior, that is. I could tell he needed to do it even though it really didn't hold much weight for me. I forgave him for what it's worth."

"Tony, why on earth would you forgive him after everything he did to you?"

"Ziva, he's a pathetic old man with nothing. I have everything he'll never be blessed with and there is nothing that can be done to change the past. I don't condone what he did, and there will be consequences to both of us for the rest of our lives because of it, but really I'm just choosing not to hold it over his head anymore. I don't need that kind of bitterness and it doesn't change the fact that we'll never be close. It makes him feel a little better and I'm no worse off. Believe me, if I catch a father tossing his son down the stairs tomorrow I'll be cuffing him in an instant, but I don't need protecting from him. He knew what he did was inexcusable, even if there was no jail sentence tied to it. For once I feel like it's over, and that, Ziva, is a relief."

I could tell that she had trouble digesting this. She was quiet for a very long time.

"You just found out what he had done. I had years to analyze it. It's over, Ziva. Now, for me, it's over. You don't have to worry about if I'll have your back tomorrow, because there is no question that I'm no longer bothered by him."

She never agreed with what I had done but she seemed to accept it was what I needed to do. "Tomorrow will come very soon, you should get some sleep. Do you need any more meds or are you okay?"

"I'll take something on my way to bed." She started to get up and I grabbed her arm to stop her. "Ziva, before you go, I wanted to thank you for taking care of me, I know I was insufferable."

She smiled at me, "Only most of the time, Tony." A bit more seriously she added, "I know you are not out of it enough to ask me to sleep with you again, but I am willing to crash on your couch if you do not want to be alone. I brought a go-bag just in case."

"I wouldn't want you falling asleep on your drive home, Ninja. Knock yourself out." With that I headed to my bedroom and got ready.

A few minutes later She knocked lightly on the door and came and sat on my bed after I had crawled under the covers. She started poking at my bandage and I let her peel it off. "It is looking better. She changed it for me even though I could have managed on my own. With all that I told her about my childhood I knew that it would make her feel better to be able to help me in some way so I let her. She then leaned down, kissed the top of my head then headed back out to the couch to sleep.

The next morning I woke to the delightful aroma of coffee and omelets. I followed the smell to find Ziva, fully dressed for work, expertly flipping the eggs.

"Good morning, Partner. Ready to go back to work today?"

I rubbed my eye, "Yeah. Hey, I forgot to ask last night but do you know what this thing at 11 is for?"

She smiled deviously. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Well, that's sort of why I asked."

She answered as she dished the eggs. "It is a surprise, one that I am not privy to. I do think that we should try to do something about your hair, though. It looks like you have a weeks' worth of product matted all over, and it does not smell like a bed of flowers right now." She wrinkled her nose for emphasis.

"How do you recommend that I wash it since I can't get my head wet?"

Twenty minutes later our breakfast had been eaten, dishes cleaned and Ziva had a towel around my neck and my head leant over the kitchen sink. She took the sprayer and carefully wet all my hair except the wounded area, worked in the shampoo, and on my reluctant insistence, the high-end conditioner, then toweled it dry. She carefully covered the staples again and let me loose to style it as I saw fit. I spent nearly 30 minutes shaving then getting my hair in an acceptable state considering what I had to work with. I didn't think I looked half-bad until I stepped out of the bathroom and was laughed at by my oh-so-encouraging partner.

"What?" I self-consciously fingered my styled work of art.

"Nothing, you look very nice. It's just that after that long I had expected that you'd at least come out with an afro or Willie Nelson braids."

"You don't know about 'Fantasy Island' but you know who Willie Nelson is. Unbelievable!"

I shook my head and she gathered her things and led the way to her car.

It seemed like I hadn't seen the bullpen in weeks instead of days. I swiveled in my chair, looking at the friendly orange walls and my delightful coworkers. Abby had covered my work area with balloon and several home made get well cards, all hand drawn with skulls and flowers and hearts on them. Gibbs lightly walked down the steps from Vance's office, looking very formal in a suite and tie, then uttered a "Welcome back, DiNozzo," as he passed my desk.

"So, Boss, what's this 11:00 thing?"

"Good luck, Tony, we've been asking him all morning." Probie offered before Gibbs' gruff reply, "You'll find out soon enough. If you can't find work to do until then I'll find some for all of you."

"Right. Finding work, Boss."

I saw that he was sitting at his computer trying to mask the smile at seeing his three kids back where they should be.

Eventually 11:00 rolled around and we were summoned to the larger conference room. Vance was in the front of the room behind the podium. He waited until everyone was seated then started his speech.

"Thank you for coming. Normally we have one annual award ceremony but it has come to my attention that there is an individual who has earned a distinguished medal that merited immediate recognition. Agent Gibbs, since this award is being bestowed based on your recommendation, would you please join me in the front?"

Gibbs never attended award ceremonies, I was at a complete loss as to what was coming next.

"Thank you, Agent Gibbs." He handed Gibbs a box and he dutifully stepped to the side with it.

"Would Special Agent Timothy McGee please step forward." Probie looked terrified and shocked at the prompt. I could not suppress my grin, Ziva was clapping and Abby was bouncing with excitement. I heard Ducky say, "Well, go on, Lad." And Tim stepped forward, facing Gibbs.

Vance continued, "Special Agent, Timothy McGee, I present to you the Secretary of Defense Medal for Valor, which recognizes the act of heroism or sacrifice with voluntary risk of personal safety in the face of danger, for your actions while protecting a group of civilians on foreign soil. When these civilians were threatened by a terrorist from a Mexican drug cartel, you selflessly offered your life in exchange for their freedom without regard for your own safety. You calmly diffused a potentially explosive situation, which showed an uncommon dedication to those placed in your care. For that I award you this medal on behalf of the Secretary of the Navy, the Secretary of Defense, and in gratitude for all those you kept safe, including our own Ms. Scuito. Special Agent Gibbs, you may now pin on the medal."

Gibbs looked Tim in the eye as he pinned on the medal. He nodded, smiled then shook his hand. I saw Gibbs' lips move and I didn't have to guess to know that he was saying, "I'm proud of you, Son."

After the ceremony and the following reception we all returned to the bullpen. The three of us were typing away at some report or another, Tim still wearing his medal, Ziva glancing at her replica of Columbus' boat place prominently on the corner of her desk, and me grinning uncontrollably amidst the balloons and cards. I took a moment to look over at 'Dad's' desk and saw that he was reclining in his chair, arms behind his head, looking content for the first time in six months.

Restoration. Now that was a sign of strength.

**El Fin**


End file.
